Black S

My Kandora, you wander solemnly.

I linger,

I owe – what?

A hundred tides!

I'll wait, I know that

I'm native here.

My Kandora, your blood runs faster.

I linger

I owe – what?

My Kandora, the finest pellicle,

My loning.

I owe what?

A hundred tides!

I'll stay, I know that I'm native here.

I linger,

I owe what?

I wonder why.